


a gentlemen's agreement

by fatal_drum



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Abusive Marriage, Anal Sex, Classism, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, M/M, Mentions of Sexual Assault, Regency-ish AU, Sex for Protection, Trans Jonathan Sims, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Sex, background Jonathan Sims/Jonah Magnus, background Martin Blackwood/Jared Hopworth, background Martin Blackwood/Jonah Magnus, mentions of physical violence/whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 22:40:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30146658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fatal_drum/pseuds/fatal_drum
Summary: “I know Jonah is more than he seems,” Jon says softly. “As are you. I suspect that you may be the only one in the world who can hide us from him.”Jon and Martin make a bargain.
Relationships: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Peter Lukas/Jonathan Sims, Peter Lukas/Martin Blackwood, Peter Lukas/Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68





	a gentlemen's agreement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwoDrunkenCelestials](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoDrunkenCelestials/gifts).



> For twodrunkencelestials! You are such a wonderful friend! Happy belated birthday! <3
> 
> Many thanks to cuttooth for betaing! You're the best!
> 
> This fic takes place in a Regency-ish AU where trans folks are accepted and same gender marriage is common. Which partner is the "husband" or "wife" is based on age, wealth, social standing, and/or the couple's preferences. 
> 
> This fic contains dubious consent/transactional sex and brief references with sexual and physical assault. Please mind the tags.
> 
> Words used for Jon and Martin’s anatomy: cunt, cock, breasts

Peter has noticed Jonah’s young husband eyeing him around the manor, while his servant follows him like a shadow. While Peter isn’t exactly  _ happy  _ about his ex-lover’s marriage, he can understand why Jonah made his choice. Jon is a comely thing, with dark, silver-streaked hair he wears in a neat plait over his shoulder, and a narrow frame flattered by the finest garments from Paris. Jon’s servant, whose name Peter hasn't caught, is tempting in his own way. His auburn curls tumble down his back, a perfect contrast to his pale, freckled skin. His body is thicker than Jon’s, with broad hips and lush thighs. The two of them are a study in contrasts. 

He grows used to the sight of them lurking about, whispering to each other whenever they catch sight of him. Perhaps Jon knows of Peter’s history with his husband. Or perhaps he’s simply looking for a dalliance of his own. Peter expects a shy approach: a whispered exchange in a corridor, or a furtively passed note. 

What Peter doesn’t expect is for them to be waiting in his bedroom when he returns from a private luncheon with Jonah. Jon is sitting primly on the fainting couch in front of his bed, while his servant leans against the wardrobe. 

“Hello, Mr. Lukas,” Jon says demurely. “I trust you are enjoying your stay?”

The sight of Jonah’s waifish husband so close to his bed is...inspiring, to say the least. It would be so easy to seize his wrists and pin him to the bed. Take out his frustrations with Jonah on his soft, sweet body, right in front of his servant. 

Peter does, however, have some modicum of self-control, whatever Jonah might think. 

“This is most irregular, Mr. Bouchard,” he says mildly. 

“My apologies, Mr. Lukas,” Jon says, not looking apologetic at all. “I just...I needed to speak with you.”

“About what?” 

Peter wonders if this is the boy trying to assert his authority. A number of men in his position would be jealous of their husband’s older, more experienced ex-lover. 

Jon bites his lip. “You’re leaving tomorrow, yes?” 

“We’re setting out at first light, yes,” Peter agrees. 

“I...I need you to take us with you.”

Peter looks to the servant for his reaction. His eyes are downcast, his shoulders tense. When he finally risks a glance up at Peter, his eyes are full of fear. 

“I beg your pardon,” Peter says. 

Jon’s hands clench into determined fists. “We can’t stay here. We need—we need your help.” 

Peter eyes them both. “What makes you think I would betray Jonah for your sake?”

To Peter’s surprise, tears well in Jon’s dark eyes. 

“He—he hurts us. He hurt  _ Martin.  _ I, I overheard him talking about selling his contract—”

“How did he hurt you?” Peter asks. 

“Show him,” Jon urges. 

Martin turns his back to Peter, shedding first his coat, then his shirt. His movements are stiff, as if he were in pain. It takes him a moment to wrestle out of his binder, clutching it to his chest as Peter stares. 

His back is covered in deep red welts—from a whip, Peter suspects. Some of them are scabbed over, while others are surrounded by livid bruises. They look to be a few days old. 

“Jonah let Lord Hopworth  _ ‘play’  _ with Martin,” Jon says bitterly, and Peter immediately understands. Hopworth is well known in certain circles for his... _ exotic _ tastes. From what Peter’s heard, Martin is fortunate to have escaped with as little damage as he has. 

Peter tears his eyes away from Martin’s back. “I don’t see what this has to do with me,” he says coolly. The two of them are going to have to offer more than a sob story if they want him to risk Jonah’s wrath. 

Jon licks his lips nervously. “I—I can pay you. I have some money saved away—”

“I’m one of the richest men in England,” Peter scoffs. “I don’t need your pocket money.”

Martin turns, holding his binder to his chest, though it doesn’t cover everything. “You can have me,” he says softly. 

“I beg your pardon?” 

Martin takes a step closer, eyes locked on Peter’s. 

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. You want to fuck me.” he says plainly. Jon gasps at his bold language, but he continues. “I’ll let you, if you take us away from here.” 

“Quite bold of you to assume I’d do that in exchange for one roll in the hay.” 

“You—you can have me, too,” Jon offers impulsively, his cheeks flushing.

Peter’s afternoon is proving to be far more promising than he expected. Though he can’t risk being too rash. He raises an eyebrow. “Why ask  _ me?”  _

“I know Jonah is more than he seems,” Jon says softly. “As are you. I suspect that you may be the only one in the world who can hide us from him.”

Peter supposes Jon is smarter than he looks. What a pity for him. A dull-witted man might have a chance at happiness with Jonah. At least, until Jonah grew bored, and found a way to dispose of him. 

“So you want me to hide you for the rest of your life, in exchange for used goods?” Peter asks. 

Jon glares up at him. “You don’t care that we’re  _ used.  _ Even I can see that you want us. If money isn’t enough, if  _ sex  _ isn’t enough, then name your price.”

Peter looks from one to the other, taking in the desperation on both of their faces as he pretends to consider. Frankly, he would be willing to destroy Jonah’s marriage free of charge. But since they’re offering…

“I want a sample,” he says finally. “A taste of what I can expect. I take it you’ll be wanting to stay on the  _ Tundra?” _

Jon nods gravely. 

“Then I’ll expect you to continue to uphold your end of the bargain, until we tire of one another.”

“Our deal is with you _only,_ and no one else on your crew,” Martin says firmly. “And you’re not allowed to hurt Jon.”

Peter nods. “I never was fond of sharing. Only child, you see.”

“You can’t hurt Martin, either,” Jon interjects. 

“I see no need to flay my bedmates.”

Jon nods, a bit nervously. “Then we have a deal.” 

“We have a  _ trial run,”  _ Peter corrects. “That will get you out of Jonah’s house, at the very least. Whether I keep you remains to be seen. Now, strip. Let me see what you have to offer.”

Jon swallows, looking down at the carpet as he unbuttons his jacket, setting it on the settee. His hands shake as he unknots his green silk cravat. He pulls his shirt over his head, revealing smooth, dark skin. His chest is unbound; his breasts are small and pointed, his nipples already hardening in the cool air. Martin moves to help with the ties at the back of his trousers. He does so with the ease of practice, setting down his binder to reveal his large, ripe breasts. Jon unfastens the buttons himself, revealing a neat thatch of curls, followed by a pair of slim, athletic thighs. 

“You, too,” Peter urges Martin. His cock is already stirring at the sight of them together, the contrast of their bodies, laid out before him like a buffet. He watches Martin unfasten his trousers, pulling them over his broad hips. 

Peter crosses the room, placing a hand on their shoulders. They look at him with identical, resolute expressions as he cups their breasts. Jon’s fits easily in his palm; Martin’s spills over his hand. He gives them each a squeeze, watching them squirm, before trailing down to their hips. 

“How many lovers have you taken?” he asks. 

“We’ve only been with each other, and Jonah,” Jon confesses. “Until—Lord Hopworth.”

Practically untouched. Peter’s cock twitches at the thought. 

“On your knees,” he orders. “Both of you.” 

They sink down to the plush carpet, side by side. Jon reaches out to hold Martin’s hand as Peter unbuttons the front fall of his trousers and pulls out his cock. Their eyes widen as they take him in. Jonah isn’t small, but Peter outmatches him in both length and girth. 

“I’m sure you both know what to do,” he says smugly. 

The two of them turn to one another in a brief, silent consultation, before Martin reaches to grasp Peter’s cock. His hand is soft, but his grip is deliciously firm as he strokes him to hardness. Jon leans in, eyes closed as he laps at the head, then licks a stripe down the shaft, following Martin’s hand. Peter gives an appreciative groan, taking hold of Martin’s curls to pull him in. Martin follows obediently, lavishing attention on Peter’s balls as Jon sucks the head into his mouth. 

“Such good little cocksuckers,” Peter praises, planting his other hand in Jon’s hair. Jon sucks him deeper, cheeks hollowing with the effort, as Martin takes his balls into his mouth one at a time. After a few minutes, the two switch places, Martin tonguing the head of his cock while Jon licks the shaft. Peter pulls Martin onto his cock, moaning as his tongue flicks against the underside. 

“Which of you should I fuck first?” Peter muses aloud. Jon shivers, pressing his tongue to the sensitive skin behind Peter’s bollocks. Jonah has trained them well. 

“I think you, Mr. Bouchard. On the bed, now.” Peter orders. His cock twitches with loss as the two retreat, but the idea of finishing in Jonah’s husband is too tempting to neglect. “Martin, why don’t you get him ready for me?”

Jon climbs onto the bed, then turns to lie on his back. Martin lies between his knees, giving Peter a view of the round swell of his arse, which isn’t quite as ravaged as his back. Peter gives him a gentle squeeze with both hands, earning a little squeak. 

“Go ahead. Use that clever little tongue on him.” Peter urges, reaching between Martin’s legs to slide a finger along his slit. 

Martin shivers, burying his face in Jon’s thigh. Jon reaches down to cup his cheek. The two of them really are too sweet. Martin leans in to lap at Jon’s slick, swollen folds, making Jon gasp and grip his hair. Peter dips a finger into Martin’s cunt as he licks and sucks Jon, amused at the way he squirms.

“You’re so wet already,” Peter observes. “Do you like sucking cock, pet?”

Martin lifts his head long enough to murmur, “Yes, sir,” before returning to his task. 

“Such a good pet. You like pleasing your master, don’t you?” 

Peter slips a finger inside Martin, making him whine high in his throat. His cunt grips Peter like a vise. Peter can only imagine how tight he’ll be around his cock. 

“Y-yes, sir!” Martin moans. 

“Make your master come, pet. I want to watch.”

Martin redoubles his efforts, licking Jon messily. Jon’s spine arches, his moans growing more high pitched as Martin works. Peter rubs his thumb against Martin’s cock, smirking as the boy ruts against his hand. He can easily imagine them warming his bed at night. Taking them from their home, far from land, from anyone they’ve ever known—surely his patron will still be fed. 

Jon gasps sharply as Martin does something particularly devilish with his tongue. 

“M-martin,  _ please— _ I’m so close—”

Martin moans as he sucks Jon’s cock into his mouth, slipping two fingers into his cunt. Jon comes  _ spectacularly, _ his eyes squeezing shut as he gushes all over his servant’s face. Martin licks him through it, milking every last convulsion from his body. 

“Thank you,” Jon whispers, petting Martin’s hair. Martin kisses his thigh gently, his face soft and flushed. No wonder Jonah found them so easy to manipulate, Peter realizes. Their affection for each other bleeds through every touch, every gaze. His only mistake was pushing them too far. 

Peter is going to enjoy profiting from Jonah’s miscalculation. 

“I think our little pet deserves a treat, doesn’t he?” Peter says, rubbing his thumb against Martin’s cock. Martin gasps, cunt twitching around Peter’s finger. 

“H-he’s not a pet,” Jon argues. “But...yes. He deserves it.” 

Peter slides a second finger into Martin, drawing a moan from his throat. 

“How does he like it? Slow and deep? Or hard and fast?” Peter pushes deeper, savoring the broken sound Martin makes. 

“Fast,” Jon confesses. “He likes it when I’m—rough.”

“Is that so?”

Without warning, Peter slams in deep, setting a brutal pace that has Martin whimpering and clutching the bedspread. Jon strokes his hair, murmuring soothingly to him as Peter fucks him.

“M-mister Lukas—” Martin gasps.  _ “Please—” _

Peter rubs his thumb hard against Martin’s cock, and Martin’s thighs clench around his arm as he comes, shaking and moaning and soaking Peter’s hand. Peter keeps rubbing until he's gasping and squirming from overstimulation. 

"Martin…" Jon murmurs, eyes wide with wonder. He leans down to kiss him softly. 

Peter withdraws his fingers, savoring the soft whine Martin lets out.

"I think you're wet enough for the next bit," he tells Jon. Jon flushes, closing his legs, but Peter climbs onto the bed and pushes them apart again. 

"You can still back out," Peter tells him. "Stay with Jonah. I won't force you."

"No," Jon says, eyes firm with resolve. "We made a bargain."

"How very noble of you," Peter trails his hand between Jon's thighs to stroke his cock, his fingers still slick from Martin's cunt. Jon lets out a strangled sound.

"H-how do you want me?" Jon asks. 

Peter considers. There are a variety of appealing possibilities, each with their own merits. He could have Jon lie on his back, and watch his face as Peter's cock splits him open. Or he could have him on his hands and knees like an animal. Or…

"In my lap," Peter orders. "I want you to work for it."

Jaw squared with determination, Jon climbs into Peter's lap, rubbing his dripping cunt against Peter's cock. Peter groans and clasps his hips. His hands make Jon look even smaller, like he might break if Peter used him too roughly. 

"Like  _ this?" _ Jon asks smugly.

"That's a good start," Peter agrees. 

Jon raises himself up, taking Peter in hand to line himself up before slowly sinking onto his cock. Peter groans as Jon’s tight cunt slowly swallows his cock. To Jon’s credit, he doesn’t stop until he’s taken all of it. Peter reaches between them to stroke Jon’s cock with two fingers, making Jon gasp. He’s soaking wet. 

“Look at you, taking my cock like you were born for it,” Peter praises. “Doesn’t he look delicious, Martin?”

“Y-yes, Mr. Lukas,” Martin says, eyes wide. His expression is equal parts envy and arousal. 

“Why don’t you help your master? He has plenty of holes to service.” Peter says generously. 

Martin flushes deeply, but he obeys without hesitation, gripping Jon’s hips as he leans down to lick his arse. Jon lets out an endearing whine. Peter chooses that moment to thrust upwards, driving himself deeper into Jon’s cunt. Jon yelps, clutching Peter’s shoulders for balance. 

“Now, now, Mr. Bouchard. I can’t do  _ all  _ the work for you.” Peter chides. 

With a spiteful little glare, Jon raises his hips before slamming back down, making Peter groan appreciatively. He strokes Jon’s cock as he moves, a reward for his good behavior. 

“That’s right,” Peter encourages. “Take my cock. You need it, don’t you?”

Jon’s panting hard. He looks like he wants to argue, but Peter’s cock and Martin’s ministrations have left him incoherent. The only sounds that come out are soft gasps and moans. Satisfied at their progress, Peter turns his attention to his own pleasure, grabbing Jon by the hips so he can move him faster. His fingers brush against Martin’s. He can hear the wet sounds of Martin servicing Jon, alongside the filthy slap of flesh on flesh. Jon is already tightening around him, his spine arching as his release approaches. 

“Are you going to come for me, Mr. Bouchard?” Peter growls. 

Jon whimpers, his hand plunging between their bodies to stroke his cock. His movements are feverish and desperate, his fingers a blur as he pleasures himself. After a moment, he stiffens, crying out as he clenches around Peter’s cock. Peter grips his hips even tighter, thrusting into his unresisting body. Jonah’s husband, and his new toy. Jon gasps, no doubt overstimulated, but Peter doesn’t relent until he comes, buried to the hilt inside him. 

Jon lies against Peter’s chest afterwards, panting through his recovery. When he finally moves, Peter’s spend trickles from his well-used cunt. Peter could easily grow accustomed to such sights. 

“I think I’ll have your boy’s arse,” Peter decides, reclining against the pillows. “Why don’t you prepare him for me?”

Martin’s blush has spread all the way to his ample chest, a charming sight. Peter grabs his breasts with both hands and squeezes firmly. He can see himself burying his cock between them until he comes all over them, rubbing his spend into Martin’s freckled skin. But not before he’s thoroughly tested each of his holes. He thumbs Martin’s nipples, making him shudder and rub his thighs together. 

Jon positions himself behind Martin, spreading his cheeks with both hands as he leans down to lick his sweet little pucker. Martin arches between them, pushing his chest into Peter’s hands and his arse against Jon’s mouth.

“Do you like having your master’s mouth on you?” Peter asks, pinching Martin’s nipples. Martin lets out a startled whimper.

“Y-yes, Mr. Lukas,” he says breathlessly. 

Peter chuckles, leaning down to suck one of Martin’s pretty pink nipples into his mouth, rubbing the other between his fingers. Martin moans helplessly as Peter starts on the other side. 

“Give him your fingers,” Peter tells Jon, eager to stake his claim. 

Jon reaches between his own thighs to wet his fingers with his own slick before slipping them into Martin. It clearly isn’t the first time Jon’s touched him there, as he pushes back eagerly into the touch, thighs spreading to show his gleaming pink sex. Peter reaches down to rub his cock, making him moan and grind against Peter’s hand. 

“Such a good pet,” Peter says, squeezing Martin’s cock between his fingers. “Are you ready for me to fuck you?”

“Yes, Mr. Lukas,” Martin moans. 

Peter arranges Martin on his hands and knees, rubbing his cock against Martin’s cleft. Martin’s hole is slick from Jon’s ministrations. Good. Slowly, Peter sinks inside, letting Martin gradually adjust to the intrusion. Jon pets Martin’s hair, murmuring soothing words as he kisses his face. Peter decides to allow it. Once he’s fully seated, Peter rolls his hips, drawing a moan from Martin’s throat. Martin’s body is hot and tight, gripping him sweetly. 

“Such a good boy, taking my cock like that,” Peter praises, then turns to Jon. “Is he always so obedient? Or just when his master is watching?” He drives in deeper, and Martin lets out a low whine, gripping the coverlet desperately.

Jon glowers at Peter. "He's not just some—servant."

"Do you not pay for the privilege of his company? He takes orders so well…" Peter grips Martin's broad hips, savoring the tight clutch of his body.

"I—that's not all he is!" Jon argues. 

Peter can tell he's struck a nerve. He supposes the two will be on equal footing once Peter sequesters them away: they'll both be equally indebted to him. That should appeal to Jon's egalitarian leanings. 

"Do you want more?" Peter asks Martin, teasing his fingers against Martin’s slit. 

"Y-yes—please, Mr. Lukas—" 

Peter takes that as permission to snap his hips forward, driving in deep. It's so easy to lose himself in the tight heat of Martin's body, the wet sounds of their coupling. Martin is perfect under him, they’re  _ both  _ perfect, and soon to be his. 

"You should touch him," Peter tells Jon. Jon doesn't need any further encouragement; he slides a hand between Martin's thighs, drawing a desperate moan from his throat. Jon knows exactly how to draw the pleasure from his body; Peter can feel Martin clenching tight around him, his back arching as his cries become more pitched. 

"That's it, you sweet little whore," Peter croons. "Come for me. Come for your master."

Martin gasps and stiffens underneath Peter, arse tightening around him as he comes. Peter growls, burying himself to the hilt and filling him with his spend. 

Martin’s knees give way, and Peter falls to the bed with him, still inside him. Jon clings to Martin’s side, stroking his hair and murmuring softly. The sight of them together, both dripping with his come, is a pleasing one. 

“We’ll be leaving before dawn,” Peter warns. “Bring everything you intend to take. We won’t be coming back.”

Jon’s mouth curves in a pleased smile. 

“No,” he agrees. “We won’t.”


End file.
